


The Crate

by MudaMuda



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dark Comedy, Dubious Consent, Language Barrier, M/M, Porn With Plot, THE GERMAN, World War I, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MudaMuda/pseuds/MudaMuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with a stranger in the forest, Private Feliciano Vargas discovers he isn’t nearly as straight as he thinks he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crate

**Author's Note:**

> I present this PWP I wrote two years ago, in which I took a beloved scene from the first episode and bastardized it beyond recognition for the sake of titillation. It would be cool if I could get some feedback in the comments-- say what you liked/didn’t, because I’m not sure how I feel about this fic, now that I’ve dug it up again from the depths of my old laptop.  
> Warnings for a bit of sexism, homophobia, and dubcon.

Had he really just said that?

Feliciano blinked at the tall soldier, and asked him to repeat himself, in case he had heard wrong through the pounding of his heart in his ears.The pronunciation had been awkward, rough and grating and very obviously German; and what had the soldier been thinking, pointing his gun at him and saying something so shocking without a word to him beforehand? Didn’t he know what it meant?

_“Voglio scopare.”_

Oh, he knew. The hungry look on his face said as much as the words themselves. It was meeker the second time, the syllables almost lost in the deep rumble of his voice, like the German was embarrassed to have to repeat himself, but it was unmistakable now.

The soldier wanted to fuck.

Feliciano wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that. What was he supposed to do? Did the German think he had a beautiful woman hidden with him in the crate of tomatoes that he could offer up? 

Now, more than ever, Feliciano wished he had a beautiful woman with him, or at least a full round in his pistol. He was good with a pistol, and he could be good with a woman if she wanted, but here he was, pistol-less and woman-less, praying to God that the blond German wouldn’t blow a hole in his forehead at point-blank range. 

At present, it was just the two of them, he and the German, in the center of a sunny clearing in a forest in Italy. Feliciano didn’t actually know _which_ forest it was, as he was just a lowly _soldato_ himself, and wasn’t supposed to ask questions; only follow orders.

Unfortunately, he was very bad at following orders, and this shortcoming had landed him in a very troubling situation. How was he supposed to explain to _Sergente_ that because of his bad handwriting on the note he had gone west instead of east to deliver orders to the supply unit, and now he was staring up the barrel of a rifle of a very large, scary German man who had just told him twice that he wanted to fuck?

His neck would be wrung before he could even finish the sentence. So. Was being shot in the face preferable to incurring the wrath of _Sergente_? Did he even have an option?

Maybe a better question was, did the German really want to shoot him in the first place? He hadn’t pulled the trigger yet, and was still glaring at him down his sharp nose, waiting for an answer.

What was he supposed to say to him?

“You… want to fuck?” Feliciano asked timidly, making a corresponding hand gesture that he hoped might possibly aid in translation.

There was a moment of hesitation, where the German's stare intensified, and Feliciano felt sweat roll down the back his collar and he let his hands drop to his lap because they were visibly shaking. Finally, the German nodded, then jerked his rifle to the side a bit, in a motion that told Feliciano he was to step out of the crate.

Feliciano stumbled a bit, trembling in fear and anticipation, but did as he was told.

“Look, sir, I can't help you,” Feliciano tried to explain, as he climbed out. The German seemed disinterested, watching as Feliciano replaced the lid on top of the crate. “I-if you want to fuck, I can try to find a brothel or some--” He stopped short. Did the German even understand what he was saying? Maybe _‘voglio scopare’_ was all the Italian the other man knew, and he had only bothered to learn it to sound sexy when he tried to woo the ladies. Feliciano considered telling him that he would only get slapped if he said that to an Italian girl, but remembered that he still had a rifle pointed at him.

The German's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the words. He cleared his throat and said slowly, in broken Italian, “We fuck. I want you.”

Now it was Feliciano’s turn to stare. There was a language barrier, but he knew what he had heard. The German wanted him. Or was it ‘I want you to fuck yourself’ that he was trying to say? They were enemies, after all. Of course. The German would never want him like _that_. So what _did_ he want, Feliciano wondered?

“I don’t understand, sir,” Feliciano confessed.

_“Voglio scopare.”_

Feliciano groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He was completely out of ideas for how to communicate with this man, but too afraid to reach for his gun--quick draw-- and shoot the German first. What if he missed? What if the German shot him in the arm and then threw him over his shoulder and took him back to his camp and force-fed him sauerkraut until he told them the location of---

“You’re attractive,” the German muttered, so quietly that Feliciano didn't quite hear him through the panic in his head. “I want you.”

Oh.

He…

It took Feliciano a bit to process what had been said, and when he did, his mouth dropped open in horror at the knowledge that throughout their entire conversation, the German had been thinking about... him?

“No! No, no, no!” He shook his head vigorously, smiling uncomfortably and putting his hands up, palms out, so that the German would know that he was very much against his idea.

The German’s eyes glittered, knowing that they had come to an understanding. His mouth curved into a curt, tight-lipped smile, baring no teeth, as he cocked the hammer of the rifle. “We fuck.”

“No!” Feliciano was horrified. He didn’t want to be shot, but he also didn’t want to be taken by some strange man, here in the forest, like an animal. Surely the German wasn’t so desperate that he would try to use him like a woman? Feliciano knew he was devastatingly handsome, but he wasn’t so pretty that he could pass as a woman! What was this man thinking?

 _Or maybe,_ Feliciano realized, _he’s one of those types who like other men..._

The German narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

“No!” Feliciano repeated, fear shooting up his spine as the German took a step towards him and pressed the cold barrel of the rifle into his forehead. _What_ had he done to deserve getting into such a terrible situation?

“Yes,” the German replied stubbornly, reaching out to grab at his belt. Feliciano jumped back, and the heels of his boots bumped the side of the crate.

He knew he was cornered, and his pride fell away, crumbling to pieces as he stared into the German’s piercing eyes.

He began to consider: would he really rather _die_ than sleep with another man? Having sex seemed like such a small price to pay for freedom- in fact, Feliciano knew that he would be jumping at the chance to have sex ordinarily. However, this was not a situation he had ever been faced with. That is to say, the German was not a woman. And even if he _were_ one, Feliciano wasn’t sure if he would immediately agree to do such a thing when it was being demanded of him like this.

He began to reason with himself. He had made love to many girls many times before, just… probably in a different way than what this man was expecting. Really, how terrible could _this_ be? He could give this German what he wanted and then continue on his errand. No one had to know.

At any rate, Feliciano had made his decision. With shaking fingers, he reached up and touched the barrel of the rifle, pushing it away from his forehead. He nodded once. “O-okay.Yes. You can have me. Just be quick.”

At hearing a _“si”_ in the sentence, the German looked satisfied, lowering his gun.

Feliciano swallowed hard, immediately regretting his decision as the German pressed a knee solidly between his legs. He clutched the wooden edge of the box, shaking like a leaf as his coat was unbuttoned. The German found the pistol, loaded with less than half a round, pulling it out of its holster and tossing it onto the grass.

Feliciano flicked his eyes over to where his pistol lay, just out of reach. If this damn German hadn’t surprised him; sneaking up on him when he was busy scratching his head and wondering why there was a crate in the middle of the forest, the German would be lying useless in the grass instead of the pistol.

Feliciano silently let him pat him down, looking for more weapons. When he was satisfied, the German replaced the safety mechanism and slung his rifle into the holster on his back.

The German hadn’t been planning on shooting him, Feliciano realized. Even if he had fought back, the huge man could have easily overpowered him without having to use the rifle.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t shoot him after he was finished with him. All he could do was pray that the German was a man of his word.

The German slid Feliciano’s coat off, quickly undoing his braces and pulling his pants down just far enough so that only the tops of his tan thighs peeked out from under his shirttails. Feliciano was made to turn around, and the German bent him over the side of the crate, pressing him down by the shoulders without any real force behind the movement. Feliciano whimpered anyway.

So, this is how it would be. When he woke up that morning, Feliciano had never imagined something like this would ever happen to him. Oddly, above all the fear he was feeling, he was more confused with the situation than anything. Though he himself had only slept with women, he supposed two men could do similar activities together. But why would they want to, and how did they do _‘it’?_   

Feliciano’s heart thudded in his chest as he felt the fasteners on his pants being undone. He was feeling like a virgin all over again; nervous and unsure of what the German was planning.

He received his answer, jolting in surprise as he felt the German’s arousal press and slide between his legs, rubbing against the underside of his own cock. Feliciano tried to shift his legs apart so that he wasn’t being touched quite so intimately, but his pants had fallen tight above his knees, keeping his thighs pressed together snugly.The German moved slowly, in and out, as if he had all the time in the world, and Feliciano felt his face heat up in humiliation at how easily he had agreed to let the German use him. He was taking his time with him, and Feliciano wasn’t even putting up a fight.

It was around this same time that Feliciano realized he had a much different problem to address.

In a short time, the friction of the German’s movements had made his inner thighs flushed and tingling with heat, and the tight warmth and repeated sensation of the larger man’s cock grinding against his own from behind was making him inexplicably hard. Feliciano could practically feel the blood drain from his face in shock as it rushed downward to engorge his own manhood.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t like men like _that_ , and especially not this one-- this _stranger_ that had pointed a gun at him and threatened him. He buried his face in his arms and tried to concentrate on something else besides the feeling of the German’s steely erection pulsing between his legs.The German also noticed that Feliciano was no longer limp, and Feliciano could hear the low rumble of a laugh from behind him.

“Shut up,” Feliciano said miserably, looking over his shoulder to glare at him. “I don’t understand…”

The German did not respond; his face betraying no sign of pleasure as he extracted himself from between Feliciano’s thighs. He spat into his palm, slicking his erection with the same hand.  

Feliciano gasped and tried to scramble up and away when he felt the German press the head of his erection between the cleft of his ass, rubbing it in small circles against his entrance. The German seized him by the collar and pulled him back down, holding him so he could not escape.

A whimper broke from Feliciano’s throat. Being on the receiving end, cowering in the grasp of a very large man who was holding his very large cock in a way that was almost menacing, Feliciano was nothing short of terrified.

He couldn’t bear to watch, so he turned back around and waited helplessly as the German began to push inside him.

It hurt, but more than that, it felt strange. It was uncomfortable, being filled like this, and Feliciano wasn't sure if he would ever be able to put the feeling into words.

The German was gentle, and moved slowly; almost deliberately so; but he was so big that Feliciano was afraid he would be torn in two before the whole ordeal was over. The German gradually slid himself deeper, more and more, until Feliciano felt the larger man’s hips press against his ass.

He bit his lip to keep himself from making any noise, but immediately gave that up for lost when he gasped as the German pulled back. He slid back in, then out, gradually picking up speed, rhythmically rocking his hips against Feliciano’s ass.

With each thrust, the pain and discomfort began to dissipate, and with the German’s firm and efficient movements, it quickly reached a point where it was actually tolerable. No pain, just a steady in-and-out friction.

Feliciano wasn’t sure when the friction became gratifying, heating his blood again, but it came as a shock. When the German had slid between his legs, grinding their erections together to pleasure each other, Feliciano thought that maybe it made sense that he had gotten hard. It didn’t matter if it was a man or woman touching him; when he was rubbed like that, he didn’t think he could help it.

This was different.

Feliciano didn’t understand how it was possible, but his manhood was perking up again at the feeling of the German’s thick cock throbbing inside him, drilling into him with a relentless, pulsing heat.

He shifted uncomfortably, his stiff member hot and aching between his thighs. He was nearly overcome with the urge to touch himself, and his elbow twitched as he involuntarily tried to reach down and stroke himself, but stopped before his intentions became noticeable.

There was no way he would give the German the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting off because of him.

Feliciano’s throat tightened in alarm. Was he really attracted to this man? Enough to get off on just the thought, if not the sensation, of having the German inside him?   

Standing face to face with him had given Feliciano enough time to examine the German’s features, even if he hadn’t been making a conscious effort to do so, and now that he thought about it, the German was the type of man that girls would probably fall all over. A young soldier about Feliciano’s same age, tall and strong and alarmingly handsome. Taller, stronger, and even more handsome than he himself, Feliciano thought, feeling a bit jealous.

It had to be because of the German’s appearance. If he had been taken by some fat middle-aged man with a bushy moustache and comb over, he would never have felt like this. This revelation didn’t make Feliciano feel any better. If he was enjoying the German’s attentions because he was attracted to him, then he had unwittingly been seduced by another man, and that was confusing on its own.

    Just then, the German leant over Feliciano so that his broad chest was pressed against his back, bringing their bodies closer together. His hand came up to grip the edge of the crate for leverage as he rocked his hips a bit faster, the sleeve of his coat riding up to reveal a thick wrist and forearm. Feliciano stared at the newly exposed length of pale skin, captivated by the sight of the muscles and tendons flexing powerfully with the German’s movements.

Ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him he should be ashamed, Feliciano reached out tentatively and slid his hand around the wrist. He found that, wrapped all the way around the limb, his thumb and forefinger could not touch each other at either end. He swallowed with a bit of difficulty, unsure anymore whether he was scared or impressed at this man's massive size.

The German easily tugged out of Feliciano’s grip, snatching Feliciano’s own wrist and pinning his arm against the crate. He held him down gently, almost like he was teasing him, and though Feliciano tried, he could not free his arm with a simple jerk like the German had.

The knowledge that the German was effortlessly holding him down and taking him sent hot shivers of fear and excitement coiling down into his belly.

His now fully-standing member brushed his stomach whenever the German thrust inside him. He could feel warm rivulets of precome leaking from the tip, and occasionally a drop fell onto his bare thigh; a burning reminder of just how hard he was.

The urge to touch himself had become unbearable, but he wasn’t ready to lose the last of his pride just yet. He could always touch himself later, after the German left.

However, this dilemma was immediately and pleasurably solved, because at that moment, the German made the decision to reach around with his free hand and squeeze the base of Feliciano’s cock, as if he had known he had been hard all along.

The breathless groan that broke from Feliciano’s throat was completely filthy.

Mortified, Feliciano tried to press his lips together, but he couldn’t cease the stream of soft, gratified little hums of arousal as the German rubbed his cock; his large, rough hand gripping him more tightly than any woman ever had.

Feliciano shifted backwards, away from the dizzying pressure of the German’s hand, only to be met on the other end, rolling his hips back to meet the German’s cock as it was thrust to the base inside him again and again; half-concealed moans spilling from his lips. He dropped his forehead against the lid of the crate and groaned; defeated.

It was too much.

He let the German have his way with him, enjoying every second as he was pounded from behind, not even bothering to quiet his loud exclamations of pleasure.

The German was quieter, with only the occasional gasp or grunt, but Feliciano hardly noticed through the haze of intense pleasure clouding his thoughts.

He hit his orgasm hard, crying out as he released all over the side of the crate. He fell into a daze, hardly noticing the cock that continued to pound into him as he lay panting in pleasure.

Shortly afterwards, the German shuddered against him, going still, and then thrusting a few more times as he milked his own orgasm to completion.              

The German pulled out, releasing Feliciano, who slumped against the crate. He felt full, with the sensation of a cock still throbbing inside him. Something was dripping down his thighs, hot and slick and _oh there was so much of it!_

He turned over and opened his legs, trying to ignore the heated stare the German was giving him as he lazily pressed his fingers to his entrance and tried to stop the flow of ejaculate that was oozing out in copious amounts.

Feliciano looked up to glare at the German, his cheeks rosy with pleasure and shame that another man had given him more pleasure than he ever had while with a woman, had made him moan loudest, and then had the audacity to fill him up with so much come that he would be dripping for the rest of the day. His head was swimming with lust, and he couldn’t decide if it was infuriating or erotic.

Feliciano hadn’t even wanted the German in the first place, but he really had no explanation as to why he was still sitting up against the crate, legs splayed invitingly, with a renewed erection throbbing against his stomach like he and the German had been lovers all along.

He licked his dry lips.

He didn’t care. Then was then, and he wanted the German again.

The German must have been thinking the same thing about Feliciano, because in seconds, he was on the Italian, taking him by the hips and dragging him onto his back. He tore Feliciano’s trousers off, and pulled his legs up so his calves rested on his shoulders, entering Feliciano in a single thrust, much more roughly than he had been the first time.

Feliciano’s half hearted moan of protest at the rough treatment soon turned into a very emphatic _“si! si! si!”_ as the German fucked him thoroughly, his savage thrusts lubricated with his own ejaculate. Their loud grunts and cries of gratification rang through the quiet of the clearing as they rutted on the ground like beasts, shouting filthy, wanton things at each other until their voices were hoarse.

They both climaxed quickly, the German releasing deep inside Feliciano again with a ragged groan, pulling out and collapsing atop him. He drew his strong arms around the spent Italian’s waist and rolled him over so their positions were reversed.

Wearily, Feliciano stroked the broad chest beneath him, and unashamedly pressed his mouth to the German's. They kissed hungrily, breathlessly sucking at each other's lips and tongues until Feliciano was lightheaded.

At this point, he wondered if he was crazy, because mere seconds ago, he had allowed another man to use his body in unspeakable ways, and then enjoyed it so much, he had not so much as refused a second round.

Feliciano Vargas, notorious skirt chaser since birth, could not remember the last time he had been so sexually gratified before the moment he had been pounded hard in the ass by this handsome stranger whose grasp of the Italian language extended just far enough to get him to agree to bend over.

He felt the German's arousal slide against his ass, seeking entry a third time. _Is this man a beast?_ he thought drowsily. As tempting as it was to give in, even a stallion like himself had limits, and Feliciano doubted he could endure any more of this German fucking him as powerfully as he had in their last two rounds. He still had a long walk back to camp, and it would definitely be an issue if he could not _walk_ there.

It took a few long seconds before Feliciano realized he was no longer being held down.

Feliciano planted his hands on the larger man's biceps and hauled himself up into a sitting position.

The German watched him with clear blue eyes; softer and hazier now that he had been satisfied. _Or not,_ Feliciano thought, as he felt the German's erection pulse against his behind. How much more of him could this man take?

Feliciano had so many questions, none of which he thought the German could answer, even if he spoke his language.

_Why did I do this? Why am I so attracted to you? Who do you think you are, making me want you so much? Will I still be able to find pleasure in women, or will I be subjected to a life of only enjoying getting my ass pounded by strong, handsome men?_

Yet somehow, he felt like he wasn't so adverse to the idea of sleeping with men anymore, if they fucked like this German and were equally as handsome.

 _"This German",_ Feliciano thought. _He has a name, doesn't he?_

However, he doubted the German would reveal his name, especially after engaging in such a forbidden act with another man.

This would remain, simply, an odd and unexpected but pleasurable encounter with a stranger.

“I’m sorry," the German said suddenly, in Italian, though Feliciano wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. Though they had had an unpleasant start to their meeting, it was the least of Feliciano's worries now. Still, the German looked troubled, and his mouth opened and closed uselessly after he said this, like he wanted to say more, but he couldn’t; not in a language Feliciano could understand. Feliciano smiled and laid his head on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “I’m not," he said.

It was the truth.

\-------

    It was hours later before Feliciano stumbled back into camp, weary and satisfied and surprised that he _could_ walk at all, as he and the German had enjoyed themselves several more times after they had rested a bit. As best as he had tried to straighten his appearance, his uniform was still streaked with grass stains and mud and both his and the German’s seed, and his curls fell in disarray around his forehead. He could only pray that during the trek back to camp, the wind had removed the smell of sex from his clothes. It might have been Feliciano's imagination, but he could still faintly smell the German's scent on his coat.

Predictably, when he spotted him, _s_ _ergente_ had a barrage of questions for him:

"Where the hell have you been, private!? Did you notify the supply unit? Why is your uniform like that? Did you fall in a ditch?"

Feliciano fought the urge to sigh, and straightened up, saluting. "I was attacked, sergeant."

The sergeant’s eyebrows twitched slightly higher up on his forehead. "Attacked?"

"Yes sir. A wild beast held me down and almost ate me alive."

"What type of "beast" was this?"

"A German, sir."

The sergeant's eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline in disbelief. "Vargas, do I look like an idiot!?"

"No sir."

"Any German in his right mind would never leave a cowardly little shit like you alive! You expect me to believe that a weakling like you fought off a German hand-to-hand!?"

"...No sir."

"Now, screwing around with girls-- _that_ I can believe. That's what you were really doing, wasn't it, Vargas!?"

Feliciano could not hide his smile.

"Yes sir."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized why I have mixed feelings about this. I enjoy GerIta, but I don’t like situations in fics/novels where characters have inner conflicts about their sexuality, or question their sexuality during fanservice or smut scenes. I feel like their dilemma takes away from both their enjoyment of the object of their desire, and the reader's enjoyment of the overall scene. Y’know, since they basically ask themselves, “am I supposed to like this?”  
> I remember I used to like that trope a lot, a couple years back when I wrote this. Seeing it now, it’s kind of annoying to me.  
> Does anyone else feel that way?


End file.
